


Destiny May Keep You Warm

by MarshmallowNerd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowNerd/pseuds/MarshmallowNerd
Summary: While helping Steve's team of rogue Avengers, Bucky finds himself stranded on a cold mountainside once again. This time, though, he has his favorite witch with him to keep him warm.





	Destiny May Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

> My take on a classic trope. Just something therapeutic for myself after the stress of Avengers: Infinity War (although I may revisit this 'verse sometime in the future). Enjoy pointless fluff!
> 
> "Lisichka" - little fox/vixen  
> "I ty?" - And you?

Contrary to what his former title suggested, Bucky "the Winter Soldier" Barnes actually hated winter weather. Especially when it was supposed to be the middle of spring where he had been living a short seven months prior. _I left Wakanda for this?_ he asked himself several times over the course of this mission. Which wasn’t necessarily true; he’d left Wakanda to find _her_ , the little witch currently leaning into his side as they trekked through snow-covered woods. He didn’t think their shared sleepless nights in the Wakandan palace, with her recovering from abuse in the Raft, and him struggling to find control of his own mind, would have led to anything more than a tentative friendship. But after she left to help Steve on his rogue missions across the globe, he spent the next few months slowly realizing he missed her too much to wait for her to return to Wakanda for a visit.

So, here he was. Following Steve, and what little of his friends he was still speaking to, on their unofficial missions across the globe. In this case, someone important needed something important that had been taken by an unimportant band of terrorists who chose to hide the artifact in a cave somewhere in the side of a goddamn mountain. He and Wanda were on their own to get there because a pair of vigilantes on foot was less likely to be spotted approaching than a jet full of them. Much to their surprise, the supposed unassuming group of thugs turned out to be better armed than anyone thought. Meaning that it was not only a tedious hike just to reach the hideout, but it was also a pretty strenuous fight to get out of there with the needed artifact. In the freezing snow, with a full-fledged storm on its way no less.

Needless to say, the Soldier was in a pretty bad mood right now.

He tried not to let that show to Wanda, though. It wasn’t her fault. She had volunteered to carry out this mission by herself, and it was his own choice to go with her. Why she wanted to go was unknown to him—she didn’t have an enhancing serum to help her with the bitter weather and thin air like he and Steve did. That inhibition, he could tell, was taking its toll on her now.

“We’re almost there, baby, I promise,” Bucky told the dead weight that was his favorite witch.

“M’kay,” Wanda mumbled. Whether she recognized that he was bluffing—he didn’t actually know how much farther it was, he’d never been to this safe house before—was anyone’s guess. Steve had made arrangements for them to be extracted from there, but the little witch had begun dragging her feet at least a half hour ago. Bucky figured the fight to escape the bunker had been taxing on her, especially given how much of her powers she had used to rip apart the copter that attempted to pursue them afterward. But as he tugged her arm around his shoulders and wrapped his own around her waist to help her along, he realized she wasn’t just tired. She was _freezing_. Her skin was like ice and she couldn’t stop shivering violently. That had been the moment he remembered her enhancements didn’t help her the same way his did. And given that Stark was no longer providing regular upgrades to their uniforms, the one she had now wasn’t barely suitable protection from these elements either.

Bucky brought them both to a pause, letting her catch her breath and himself to assess their surroundings. They were well out of view of the mountain where their potential pursuers were hiding, but that didn’t entirely mean they were in the clear. The coming storm would hopefully deter anyone from coming after them, but Bucky knew he wouldn’t be able to fully relax until they reached that safe house.

“S-Steve?” Wanda whispered.

“Not answering,” Bucky replied, doing his best to keep his irritation from coloring his tone. With the hand not around her waist—the metal one—he tried tapping the communication device in his ear once more, hoping against hope Steve or someone would finally answer the call. When no one did right away, he attempted to distract himself by gently pulling them both back along their way. “He tell you the access code he set up?”

Surprisingly, Steve had. “Nat…Nat’s bir-birthday.”

Bucky couldn’t help but huff in the beginnings of a laugh, a small cloud of vapor fanning from his lips as he did. As old as he was—both super-soldiers were, really—Steve was still as predictable as ever.

At long last, the comm in Bucky’s ear crackled to life. He could hear snippets of Wilson’s voice before the connection steadied. “Sarge? Sergeant Barnes, what’s your status?”

“Objective completed,” Bucky answered automatically. “En route to the extraction point. May need med-evac. Wanda’s on the verge of hypothermia.”

Steve cut in worriedly at that. “How urgent?”

Bucky surveyed Wanda’s state. Her head was beginning to lull and her eyes were only half-lidded. But she must have heard Steve over the comms, for she twitched the stiff fingers clinging to Bucky’s neck as if in response.

“She’s responsive,” the Soldier reported.

There was more noise from the comms, this time the distinct sound of the others arguing on the other side. It made something in Bucky’s chest twist uneasily.

“There should be supplies at the house,” Sam told him, even though those around him hadn’t completely quieted. “Basics of food and first aid. You think you can work with that for the night?”

Bucky clenched his teeth, his impatience threatening to get the best of him. Just twelve hours earlier, the entire team had been enjoying the idyllic warmth of the island, Cozumel, in Mexico. Bucky had been eager to get back to that ever since he and Wanda were first dropped off here, in a wintry hell. “When can we expect extraction?”

“Figuring that out now,” Sam answered, his tone sounding apologetic. “The storm expecting to hit you guys got to us first. Our bird’s grounded until it clears up for good.”

That explained the struggle to keep the comm line connected. The snow storm had been predicted to hit both of their locations, but not this early. Luck must not have been on his side today.

Come to think of it, when had it ever been?

“We’re looking at reaching you tomorrow morning, at the latest,” Steve announced eventually. “Maintain radio contact in case something changes.”

“Yeah, sure,” the Soldier replied flatly. Despite his serum’s best efforts to preserve proper body heat, he could feel his teeth wanting to chatter. He could only imagine how Wanda felt.

“And let us know when you reach the safe house.”

“Sure thing.”

“Alright. Over and out.”

“Bye,” Bucky barked before hearing the line go dead. He tightened his hold on Wanda as her steps grew clumsier, nearly making her fall right into the snow. “Looks like we’re gonna have to hunker down for the night,” he told her, even though she had likely heard as much from the comms in her own ear. He was hopeful keeping her talking would keep her from thinking on how miserable she clearly was.

“‘Kay,” the witch grumbled. “Steve…Steve owes us.”

It may have been her choice to take Steve’s place on this mission, but that had been something of her mantra the entire time. At first, Bucky had merely smiled along (because she could never actually be short with her teammates, and watching her try to be was cute), but now he couldn’t agree more. “Yeah, he does.”

Wanda didn’t seem to have much more in her for the time being, and Bucky didn’t push. Fresh waves of snow began falling around them, which he sensed was only the first glimpse at the storm that was to come. If it reached them before they found the safe house, it would only add to the list of problems that plagued this entire ordeal.

Good fortune, however, finally seemed to appear in the form of a building’s outline suddenly appearing ahead of them. With its solitude and considerable distance from the hideout he had just raided, Bucky knew it was the house designated for them. Enlivened now that he could actually see their destination, he shuffled through the snow even quicker, having to practically drag Wanda with him. “Almost there, sweetheart,” he promised again now that he was sure of it. “Come on, just a few more steps.”

‘A few more steps’ turned out to be a whole other battle. Somehow, Bucky managed to pull them both along, and he would worry over the memory how when they were both warm and safe. Sure enough, he found a keypad and screen embedded in the door of the cabin, just above the doorknob. After he punched in the date of Natasha’s birthday, the door instantly unlocked and allowed the pair to stumble inside. Just in time, it seemed, as the wind appeared to pick up right as Bucky went to lock the door.

Without Bucky’s hold on her, Wanda reached for the wall to steady herself. She couldn’t quite make it while so cold, and crumpled on the first step.

“No! No, no, no, no.” Bucky moved quickly to catch her, flinching despite himself when the metal hand touched her first. Princess Shuri’s handiwork made for the most lifelike prosthetic he could’ve asked for, but that didn’t mean it was perfect. The vibranium arm still didn’t absorb or retain heat as well as a flesh one, even in ideal conditions. Here, it had become absolutely frigid to the touch. Nevertheless, it was closer, so Bucky used it to help Wanda get back upright. If that was what caused her to shiver even more, he tried not to think about it. “Stay up, sweetheart.”

Once she was securely hanging onto him again, Bucky helped Wanda to the loveseat, which was only a blessed four feet away. The overall cabin was fairly small, comprised mostly of one room and what was either a closet or small bathroom. Half of the space was the den, adorned with rustic furniture and a wood burning stove. The other half was more vacant, with a lone wooden breakfast table, the door to the second room, and spiral staircase leading to the loft area that oversaw the den.

From his current place below, Bucky could see a single bed pressed against the metal railing that ran along the edge of the upper story. The bed’s comforter looked thick and invitingly warm. But it was all the way upstairs—up metal, unquestionably _cold_ stairs at that—so the Soldier lowered Wanda onto the loveseat in the den for the time being. The second he thought she was situated, he went to leave, yet was unable to hold back a slight laugh as the witch’s fingers tightened stubbornly on the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m coming back, doll. Just need to get supplies.”

She didn’t argue with that, twitching her fingers to let him go. She was still violently trembling, and it made him hesitant to leave her side for a moment. But keeping an eye on her, he knew, would only be harmful to her and would waste both their time. So, he rushed back to the entryway, where a line of kitchen cabinets began and rifled through each one in a hurry. The lighting was poor, since he was relying on the dying sunlight through the windows. Anything else would indicate to the outside world that the cabin was inhabited, and he didn’t want to risk leading potential pursuers to them.

The kitchen cabinets had the usual, sparse safe house food. Corn chips, trail mix, pretzels, and the like. He also came across packets of juice and quart-sized water bottles, the former of which he set on the countertop for later, after they thawed some. His next stop was the loft upstairs, discovering another door on the wall to the right of the bed. It was the storage closet, where extra blankets and an electric space heater were kept. He gathered the latter into the crook of his metal arm, and as many blankets as his other arm could hold. He was back downstairs in a heartbeat, dumping the pile of blankets on the coffee table as he plugged in the heater.

The closest outlet was by the second sofa, a good two feet from where he’d left Wanda. It took some work, but once he propped the heater atop the coffee table, it was at a suitable angle for the stream of hot air to reach her. He then took a quick minute to unlatch the guns strapped to his back and thighs, as well as empty his pockets. One had the only knife he still had from his time with Hydra, and the other the velvet pouch carrying the artifact they were sent to retrieve. He all but glared at the thing for a beat. He still wasn’t entirely sure what it supposed to be, let alone how it was worth all this trouble. Then he abandoned it on the coffee table, swapping it for the pile of blankets Wanda needed.

She hadn’t moved much. Though that apparently wasn’t for a lack of trying. She was hunched over in her seat at the very edge of the sofa cushion, numbed fingers fumbling for the laces of her boots. With exhaustion and the cold still bearing down on her, sending wracks of intense shivers through her, she couldn’t seem to manage it.

“Here, let me,” he offered, setting the bundle in hand on the loveseat armrest before kneeling at the witch’s feet. His own fingers—the flesh ones anyways—were pretty frozen as well, but he did manage to get a better grip on her laces. Wanda left him to it, slouching back against the sofa as if in slow motion.

Once he’d worked her boots off, and his own while he was at it, Bucky reached for the witch’s wrists next. First to pull off her gloves, the leather slightly damp from melted snow, and then to gently urge her to her feet. She groaned in protest, starting to worry him how lethargic and quiet she was being.

He needed to warm her up. Right now.

“Come on, baby,” he pressed, giving her wrists another light pull. “I’m gonna warm you up, promise.”

She looked up with a grotesque mixture of hope and fatigue. Her eyes weren’t their usual, luminous green, but rather a pale pinkish color that had nothing to do with her powers. Despite such, she wrapped her fingers around his wrists and used him for leverage to help pull herself up. It took more effort than it should have, but eventually, she found her footing. The moment she seemed able to stay upright, Bucky’s fingers went to the lapels of her jacket. He peeled the rigid material from her shoulders and down her arms, wincing at how resistant it was to unstick from her skin. He unzipped her corset and pants next, able to find both zippers easily even with the dim lighting from outside and nothing else.

He _may_ have had experience rushing to get her out of her uniform before this.

Evidently, she remembered that. As he went to drop his own uniform at their feet, Wanda mumbled, “‘M not sure if this…s’way will work. Can’t really f-feel my—”

“Easy, _lisichka_ ,” he said playfully, the new nickname rolling off his tongue without much thought. “Just using body heat. S’the quickest way to do this with the shitty supplies we’ve got.”

With both of them left in only their underwear, Bucky snatched the first blanket from the pile he’d set aside and hurriedly wrapped it around her, maneuvering it so that she could hold it in place herself. It was a pretty pathetic defense against the cold air, the faux fur nearly paper-thin and only covered her from her shoulders to her ribcage, but it would have to do.

As the Soldier went to wrap the second blanket around his metal arm, Wanda tried to continue teasing him, her words slurred. “You sure? Not…not looking to p-pick up from…from this morning?”

He smirked at the memory. Back then, they had been enjoying some much-awaited time alone together in their own room in one of the nicer hostels Natasha had found. Their only plans for the day had been so _marvelously_ mundane then. Lazing around in bed, watching TV with nothing between them besides thin bedsheets and loving touches.

But alas, _this_ was where they had ended up. Snowed in on a mission, with him unwilling to touch her until he’d wrapped his frost-covered arm in a blanket first. “Yeah, cause this is sexy, right?” he asked wryly, holding up the heavily wrapped limb. Though now that most of the metal was covered, and its covering secured into place when he tucked the corners in, he felt better about tugging her close against him. He wrapped the last—and largest—blanket around them both, keeping it in place by keeping his arms around her.

At least this way, there was still nearly nothing in between them. There were only her fists, balled up against his chest in a clear effort to warm up her only outlet for the scarlet that could protect them both if more trouble found them. Through the fabric of the throw that had been wrapped solely around her, he could feel the chill that lingered in her skin. Even her nose was like ice, sending gooseflesh along his body when she burrowed it into his sternum.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” he insisted, serious now. “Just breathe.”

She did. He could feel the strained bursts of air against his flesh shoulder. He felt so miserably useless as her hands—her whole body, really—continued to shake. He didn’t know enough first aid to do more than gently rub her back, keeping the larger throw around them by pinching its edge between his thumb and forefingers. He did know to make sure she was warmed at the core first, to keep from stressing her heart.

_You owe her, Stevie._

They stood there for what felt like hours. In reality, he knew it was probably shorter than that, but he honestly wasn’t paying too much attention to time. He let himself focus on a select few things only. Like Wanda’s breathing. Or his own, so she could follow his lead. On the feel of her skin, and his own anticipation for it to feel warmer. Waiting for her face to return to a lovely, _healthy_ flush.

At some point, he did notice her shivering had slowed, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She couldn’t pass out before he was certain she was at a proper body temp again. He wasn’t willing to step back from their embrace just to check if she was awake, so he used words instead. “You know something?”

There was no answer for a moment. Then, before he could grow worried, a weak grunt thrummed against his chest. “Hmm?”

“If we’re gonna be stuck here a while, maybe it _would_ be a good idea to pick up where we left off this morning. Screw mission protocols and all that. Steve owes us, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Might be our only free time for a while. Wouldn’t hurt to make ourselves at home. Hell, maybe I’ll shave. Meant to do it today anyways, since the beard’s starting to come back.”

“I liked the beard.”

That made him look down, genuinely surprised. “You’ve watched me shave how many times, and never once said anything?”

She shrugged as best she could while still half-frozen. “You didn’t ask.”

Bucky huffed. This woman had been in his life for two years now, and sometimes he still didn’t know what to do with her….

_Just love her. Keep her warm._

“Stay awake, doll,” he urged, tenderly kneading the skin on either side of her spine with the backs of his fingers. “Stay awake.”

“‘M awake. ‘M awake,” she insisted, sagging a little more against him. “S’fine.”

He kissed the top of her head, willing himself to believe her. This was fine. She would be OK. Already, he thought the room felt warmer. The space heater directly beside them was humming with life, sending waves of warm air over their cocoon of blankets and body heat. They stayed there for a long while, Bucky still massaging the witch through two layers of faux fur. Eventually— _finally_ —he could feel some of the tension in her muscles disappear, leaving the skin more pliant against his light pressing and pushing.

This time, he did chance leaning slightly away for a proper look at her. To his relief, some of a usual, rosy flush was returning to her face, and the moisture that had been in her hair was fading. He only caught a glimpse of her, though, before she was pressing against him again, moving to stand flush to his chest. She even wrapped her legs around his as best as possible, which made him smile. He knew Wanda liked physical affection, but was always hesitant to give it to him. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of pushing some sort of boundary neither of them knew he had developed from the violent touches of his Hydra handlers. Her being so forward here and now was a true testament of not only how drained she was, but of the level of comfort she took from him. His mind still wasn’t entirely stable some of the time, but the fact that she was willing to trust him like this regardless meant a lot to him.

“Hey,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her hair just because. “You wanna migrate to the bed? Lay down with more blankets? It might be more comfortable.”

She tapped a finger against his side, an indication that she was considering it. He could see her eyes briefly glance above them to where the bed was, then fall back to the floor. “It’s all the way up there,” she mumbled, already sounding defeated from the trip.

“Then do you want to sit at least?” Bucky offered, tipping his head toward the loveseat beside them.

She eyed the couch, taking a longer while to consider that option. Then she agreed with a curt, barely-there nod. Bucky smiled, keeping his hold on her even as he shuffled around so that his back was to the sofa cushions. He sat first, then slipped his flesh arm under the large throw that enveloped them both to better help guide her down with him.

Wanda all but fell on top of him. The thinner blanket around her alone threatened to fall off her shoulders as she lost her grip on it, her hands having splayed over each of his shoulders to catch herself. She winced as she bent one knee to rest against his hip, so he used his flesh hand to help her bend the other. Once Wanda was properly sitting on his lap, Bucky returned his hand to its original place on her back. He resumed the methodical rubbing of before, more so for the comfort the minute motions brought him than to keep her aware. Wanda’s own hands slid around his waist, using that to pull herself flush against him again. Her touch was still unnervingly cool, especially considering the warmth he’d grown used to because of the ethereal energy he knew lurked beneath her skin there. Though he didn’t think it was worth worrying about now, as she rested her head on his flesh shoulder. Her body was trembling noticeably less as a peaceful sigh escaped her. She seemed relaxed. She seemed OK. That was enough for him.

And then he remembered.

“Hey, doll? Are you comfortable?”

“Mh-hmm.” Another soft sigh. “Thank you.”

His smile became more rueful. “Don’t thank me just yet. I kinda have to get up.”

He could practically feel her expression scrunch up in annoyance against his skin. “No,” she said simply, causing him to chuckle at her matter-of-fact tone.

“Baby, I’ve got to get something in your system. You haven’t eaten in a while.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Yet, he knew she wasn’t sold as he felt her knees give his hips a feeble squeeze.

“At least have some of the juice I set out,” the Soldier insisted. “You think you can reach ‘em from here?”

She raised her head, positively glaring at the plastic pouches he knew were standing on the counter a ways behind him. She was clearly begrudging as she brought her hands up, stretching them out on either side of his head. It was less clear whether they shook from a lingering chill or from straining to unleash their telepathic abilities in spite of their host’s weakened state. Bucky heard the soft _whoosh_ of the scarlet rushing past him, but he didn’t check to see if they reached their target. Though the expression of frustration on Wanda’s face, and the lack of any juice literally falling into their laps was telling enough.

After a few heartbeats, Wanda surrendered to the fact that she was getting nowhere. She dropped her head back onto his shoulder, tucking her hands into fists between their chests again. Her disappointment was enough to spur a few obscenities out of her, slipping out of her in her mother tongue. It was too mumbled for him to catch everything, but he definitely picked up a couple of ugly names meant for him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said in poorly veiled amusement (again, she was rarely actually cross with any of them). “But I’m a cunt who loves you, so up.”

With only a grunt of protest from the little witch, Bucky rolled so that she was the one with their back pressed to the sofa—or at least, tucked into the corner between the cushion and the armrest. He pulled himself out of the throw that enveloped them both, securing it around her shoulders before he stood up.

It took only one step away from the little pocket of warmth they’d created for him to be struck full-force with cold air. The space heater was still hard at work, but only managed to warm up a select few feet of and around the loveseat. The bite of the untouched, chilled air was merciless against his bare skin, making him curse softly under his breath. It wasn’t enough to trigger flashbacks to when he was...in _that_ place, but it was definitely unpleasant. On his journey back toward the kitchen area, he unwrapped the fleece throw that encased his left arm and swung it around his shoulders. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.

He gathered a plastic pouch in his right hand, feeling how tepid the liquid inside was before he could lose feeling in his fingers on that side. Figuring it was lukewarm enough, he unscrewed the cap with his metal fingers before heading back to Wanda’s side. As he did, he noticed the console table standing against the back of the loveseat. More accurately, he noticed the military radio sitting on its surface. It stood out against the traditional décor around it just enough for him to know it had been left by Steve or Natasha when they first scouted this house.

_Radio when you get to the house. Right._

Before he paid any more mind to the device, Bucky stepped to the side of the sofa, extending the juice pouch in hand to Wanda. “Here you are.”

She took it with both hands, pinching only the edges with her fingertips so as to disturb the blankets around her less. He watched her take a few sips of juice, at first to see if she was thawed out enough to handle it on her own, then out of amusement for how her nose scrunched at the taste. “What? Too old?”

“T’is sweet.”

“That’s good. Sugar will help.”

She frowned, but obediently took a two more sizeable sips. When she looked up at him, he was distracted for a moment by relief to see her irises were returning to their natural, pure shade of green. “ _I ty?_ ” she asked.

“I’ll be back. Just need to do something, real quick.”

She sniffled, but didn’t protest. He left her side again, in spite of rising temptation to burrow back into their cocoon of warmth. He went to the radio he’d so recently noticed, tinkering with the dials with a precision he hadn’t used since his time spent as a machine himself.

“Sergeant Barnes,” he blurted, as if to remind himself that his time as anyone else was behind him. “This is Barnes. Come in, Steve. Romanoff, Wilson. Someone come in.”

He was met with only static for an aggravating few minutes, repeatedly asking for the same few names. He was standing just barely out of the space heater’s reach, the rays of warm air an almost tangible thing he could see on the sofa’s back, only a few inches from him. He shuddered, hating the cold. He’d always hated it.

Wanda either noticed his shiver in her peripheral or her powers picked up his contempt for something unseeable. “James?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

The static noise he had been staring at finally focused around one voice. Stevie. “Bucky? What’s your status, Buck?”

“We made it to the house. I did a sweep, and it looks like there’s enough supplies here to last us the night.”

“And Wanda?”

Bucky looked up, scrutinizing Wanda as if he hadn’t been at her side for the better part of the day. More and more of a healthy flush was gathering in her face. She was drinking the packet of juice he’d given her, slowly but surely. She looked tired, but was aware enough to notice his shiver. She was warming up.

“She’s stable,” he eventually reported to Steve, pausing so that the words could sink in for himself as well.

“That’s good.” There was noise behind Steve. “Yeah, they’re good.”

“When can we expect extraction?”

“I’m sorry, pal, but with this storm and all, we’re not looking at reaching you until tomorrow morning. Ten, at the latest.”

Bucky frowned, both at the notion of being stranded here, and also at how he knew Steve was going to stress himself over it. The clamorous blizzard outside couldn’t be helped.

And, he supposed, his and Wanda’s situation was secure for the time being. The threat of her getting sick was gone. The intense snowfall was sure to deter any pursuers they might have, if it hadn’t already. On the off-chance someone _had_ followed them this far, his weapons were still working and accessible from their place in the middle of the den. Wanda’s scarlet was even more protection, and easier to access so long as she stayed warm. Plus, there was food, at least six more packets of juice, and only a few hours left of the day anyways. They could last the night.

“That’s fine. Our situation’s secure. Just travel safe.”

“Always do.”

His nosedive into an iceberg suggested differently, but Bucky wasn’t about to revisit that right now.

“Keep your radio on,” Steve ordered. “We’ll keep you informed if anything changes, and when we’re on our way to get you.”

“Copy that. Stay safe, Stevie.”

“You too.”

And with that, the soldier and the witch were alone again. Bucky stared uselessly at the radio for a minute, allowing his only semi-stable mind to process everything. They were stranded, but only for one night. They had supplies. They would be fine.

Regardless, a shade of irritation colored his tone as Bucky spoke to Wanda. “Well. Looks like we’re officially stuck here.” It couldn’t be helped, but he still felt inclined to ask, “Is that OK?”

She shrugged, lowering the now flattened pouch into her lap. “We’ve had worse.”

“Had better too.” Bucky funneled the remnants of his frustration into his fingers as they all but ripped off a cap of juice for himself. He downed the drink in just a few large gulps, and then a second one, discarding the empty plastic into the sink until he found a proper waste bin. His enhanced metabolism demanded more, but he decided to wait until Wanda had her fill before he really dug into everything else.

Speaking of Wanda, he found her regarding him with round, apologetic eyes. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be, doll,” he insisted gently, moving back to her side. As much as he missed the hostel in Cozumel, and even his solitary seclusion in the borderlands of Wakanda, he didn’t regret staying with her at all. One night of inconvenience was better than dozens of nights not knowing where she was and if she and the others were alright on missions like this.

The witch stretched her arm out, opening the blankets around her in a silent invitation for him to sit with her inside them again. As much as he wanted to do just that, he thought to rewrap his metal arm with his own throw first. “Besides, Steve’s the one who owes us, right?”

“Right,” she agreed, though she sounded distracted. He didn’t think much of it at the moment, opting instead to take the empty juice pouch from her lap and toss it onto the console table behind her. Then he was settling back into the pocket of warmth, the rays of heat from the space heater instantly relieving his chilled skin. He ducked his shoulders to fit into Wanda’s wing of faux furs, holding her close with his flesh arm around her waist. He almost pulled away when he felt her shivering again, but she snuggled closer before he had a chance, tugging her half of the blankets tighter around herself.

She pressed herself closer into his side, one leg curling around his like before and her arms wrapping around his middle. She was half on top of him now, nuzzling his shoulder. Her nose and fingers still felt icy, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. Though just to be sure, he asked, “You sure you don’t want to go to bed? Might be easier to lay out.”

She didn’t answer at first, eyes slipping shut as she nuzzled him again. He didn’t push, rubbing his thumb over her hip as he waited. “Sure,” she agreed half-heartedly.

A part of him wondered if she only relented because she thought he wanted to. She must have sensed that, because she pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek. “You still want to pick up from this morning?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a pretty literal case of blue balls right now.”

He wasn’t usually so crude, but he thought she might be amused by the disregard of professionalism on a mission they didn’t entirely want to take in the first place. Her only reaction was a light hum, though, which was almost drowned out by the howling of wind outside.

Bucky lifted his half of their shared blankets from his shoulders, wrapping them about Wanda’s form before tucking his metal hand under the bends of her knees. With his other arm around her back, he was standing again and taking her with him. She gasped in surprise, either from being lifted or from cold as they left the space heater’s reach. The heat produced by the small machine had managed to turn the rest of the overall room moderately warmer, but the loft above it was so far out of its reach that the air there still felt like an ice box. He made short work of laying the witch over the surface of the bed, propping her up against the two pillows there, and peeling back his side of the sheets and comforter. He probably should have gone back downstairs for the space heater, but he was too impatient to escape the cold.

As the Soldier crawled into bed beside Wanda, he noticed she was taking no initiative to join him beneath the covers. Rather, she only stared blankly ahead, not moving even as the exposed skin of her legs rose with gooseflesh. She was far away from him, and he didn’t know why. He felt like he should. A better man would. Maybe if he were a real gentleman, he would have asked what was wrong the moment he noticed she sounded distant, after he finished talking to Steve.

This time he knew her scarlet had picked up on his disquiet from the way she touched his hand, blanketing it with her own. She seemed hesitant, but forced herself to speak what was on her mind. “James? Can...may I ask something that may be...too personal?”

He chuckled before he could stop himself. “Sweetheart, I think we’re well past worrying over stuff that’s ‘too personal.’ We probably left that stage when I left a secluded jungle paradise just to find you in another country and tell you I love you.”

He hadn’t even done it with the intention of telling her that (it just sort of happened after he’d found her), but still.

That didn’t seem to alleviate her trepidation any. She finally drew her gaze to him, and he could see the same dread and anxiety there that had been present when he offered his mind to her while they were both staying in Wakanda. Any trace of the unassuming American tourist façade she had been using since re-entering the real world was gone for the moment, exposing everything that was real about her beneath. As much as he’d missed seeing that side of her, it put him on edge to see it in this context. “Is this how it felt? When they would put you under?”

She didn’t need to elaborate further. He knew what she meant. And he now understood why she was so reluctant to ask in the first place. The days of serving Hydra were well behind both of them, but the trauma of it all was still there. Wanda rarely asked him about his experience because she never wanted to hurt him with the memories of it. She would rather wait for him to bring up whatever he wanted to confront when he was ready to.

But being asked about this here and now didn’t bother him. What _did_ bother him was how it made him realize things he should have thought of before. How she first volunteered for this mission, even though she rarely took up missions on her own. She didn’t trust her limited experience in the field, he’d thought she had been more closed off than usual because of that—because of nerves from her inexperience. He’d insisted on going with her to be of help, to protect her. After what she’d been subjected to on the Raft, he only trusted himself to look after her. And his serum would help him adapt to the weather and altitude better anyways (that had been part of its original purpose, after all. To preserve his body while he was held in the depths of Siberia). Had Wanda been attuned to his discomfort with the cold this entire time? Had he been unintentionally distracting her—hurting her, even, with the knowledge of it?

“James.” It wasn’t the soft whisper of his name that pulled him from his thoughts, but the slight squeeze of the hand sitting atop of his, each finger curling around his palm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up—”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just....” His mind still didn’t feel entirely whole sometimes, and he struggled to voice what he was truly upset over. He ran a frustrated hand down his face, the vibranium texture cold but at least less painful than the rough, weathered plates of titanium he once had. “Is that why you wanted to do this on your own? To spare me the upset?”

For all of her apprehension a minute ago, she met his gaze evenly now, having regained the steadfast American mask Natasha taught her to hide behind. “I would’ve done it for both of you.”

Again, he knew what she meant immediately. She knew of his distaste for frigid air because it was one of the first things that first drew them together. He’d wanted to go back into cryostasis while in Wakanda, out of distrust of the Soldier programming still lurking in the corners of his mind. Yet his fear of what going under would remind him of made him agonize over going through with it just long enough for Wanda to take notice there was an issue. From there, she had offered to use her scarlet to help him instead. It had been her first time using them since before the Raft, and thus became an exercise for both of them to repair their faith in themselves.

Steve, however, had developed a similar antipathy for being cold. One he never really talked about, let alone dealt with in a meaningful way. Of course, Wanda would pick up on that anyways. Either because of her powers or because she merely figured it out (Steve may have been protected from the physical trauma of crash-landing _the Valkyrie_ , but the mental stress of it was beyond even his serum’s abilities). So, when a mission came up that involved retrieving something from the heart of a mountain on the verge of a snow storm....

Bucky pulled his flesh hand from Wanda’s grasp, winding it around her waist to pull her closer. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to protect us. That’s not your job.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She turned onto her side so that she could face him better. “I owe him my freedom. And I love you, so I’m always going to protect you.”

That thought warmed him more than any space heater or blanket ever could. Sometimes he still couldn’t really grasp that he had someone care about him the way she did. Without really thinking of it, he raised his free hand to comb some of her hair out of her face. She shivered at the touch of metal, reminding him of where exactly they were (and half-naked at that). He lifted the covers over him in invitation. This time, Wanda did wriggle so that she could lay under them with him. It took some maneuvering, and seemingly great effort for her still half-frozen muscles, but they managed. Once she was settled in, she swung the spare blankets that had been around her shoulders over the both of them, covering their heads and shoulders so that they were both completely covered. Protecting them from the cold.

Bucky laced his flesh fingers with hers, a feeling of completion filling up in his chest for it. “What do you say we always protect each other?”

Wanda’s features softened around a small smile. She wrapped a leg around his, and while that could have easily been to bring him closer to share more body heat, he thought part of it was as a protective gesture too. “OK.” 

“‘kay.” Bucky felt a slight grin of his own growing before he leaned closer to the little witch, kissing her soundly. He could feel her free hand slipping into his hair, her fingers tangling in the dark strands and reminding him why he still kept it long (for her. Always for her). It took everything in him to pull away, but somehow he did. He hadn’t answered her question yet. “Did you know I was here? That I would be here for you, no matter what?”

Eyes that had fallen shut during their kiss fluttered open now, hazy and confused. Nevertheless, the witch nodded at his soft query.

“I think that’s what separates it. I’ll admit, all of this did almost take me back there a few times, and that was pretty scary. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, and I think that’s because I knew you would be there. That I wasn’t alone if anything happened.”

The witch’s smile returned. “I didn’t feel alone today either.”

“I’m glad.” He was. He _really_ was. No one deserved to feel the way he had every time he was shoved into that chamber to be frozen alive. So helpless, and lonely, and half-expecting to die each time.

Wanda combed the hand in his hair over his head, as if to ward off those awful memories. “We protect each other, right?” she reminded.

“Always,” he agreed, raising their joined hands up to kiss the back of hers. “I love you, Wanda.”

“I love you too.”

Content with that, Bucky leaned closer once again, now to rest his forehead against hers. He heard her utter a pleased breath through her nose, loosening her hold on his hair. Her hand trailed down his neck and to the top of his shoulder, tracing the line where the fleece throw he had wrapped around it began. With the gentlest of touches, she dipped her fingers between metal and folds of blanket, carefully peeling it off his prosthetic limb. Bucky didn’t question her, having finally succumbed to the exhaustion his body felt from the long day.

With the throw fully removed and discarded somewhere unknown, the witch’s hand wrapped around his metal one. There was no shiver, or even flinch at the feel of it this time. There was wind from outside, beating at the roof above until it creaked, and the electric heater still humming with life below. But all the soldier could feel was the warmth of his favorite witch, wrapped safely around him within their little pocket of love and peace.

* * *

Bucky slept like the dead. By the time morning came, he couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep or even what he dreamed (though with a mind like his, he was pretty grateful for the latter). With eyes still shut, he could feel that he had rolled onto his back at some point in the night. His nose was cold, so he must have moved the spare blankets that had been protecting his face. He’d lost feeling in his right arm again, though he suspected that was less from the cold and more from the slight weight clinging to that side of him, using his shoulder as a pillow and hugging his leg between her own.

Yet, despite the bothersome tingling coursing through his arm, he could easily feel how wonderfully _warm_ Wanda was. The frosty touch to her skin was long gone, taking away any fear of her freezing to death with it. It was like the previous day had never happened. If he kept his eyes closed, maybe he could convince himself that it had all been a bizarre dream, and they were still safe and comfortable in Cozumel.

But he could only delude himself so far. They were here because of a mission, and there were protocols to follow. Get up. Get dressed. Survey their surroundings. Check in with Steve and the others. Figure out what was next.

The weight around him pulled away, and Bucky selfishly cast all of those thoughts aside to hone in on a single one: _come back._ He cracked open one eye to see where Wanda was going, and found she was only rolling onto her back to stretch her limbs out, like a cat. There was a soft groan from her, a dull pop of one of her joints, and then she was rolling right back to him. He tried to play dead, hoping to prolong their time in bed before it was interrupted (again).

Wanda wasn’t the least bit fooled. “James,” she purred, pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum. He exaggerated his grunts of surprise as she clambered further over him, settling herself half on top of him. “James?” she pressed a little more insistently.

“Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he answered honestly, opening both eyes to meet hers. The lighting around them had only improved slightly with the morning hour, the brightness hindered by the snow packed against the windows, but he could see her well enough. He could see her hair ruffled from sleep, one bra strap falling off her shoulder. Could see her face alight with comfort, with contentment. He adored the sight of it (adored _her_ ), and wound his arms around her waist to bring her even closer. She gave a rather undignified squeak as she was suddenly pulled to lay completely over him. “Feelin’ _really_ good now. What about you?”

“I’m alive,” she murmured into his skin, having pressed herself closer to pepper kisses along his jaw. “Always will be.”

Bucky half-smiled at that, pushing down his apprehension for anything otherwise. “Promise?”

“Mm.” She found her way to his throat, lingering where he knew she could feel his pulse thrumming faster at her touch. Beneath the covers of the bed, she spread her legs to either side of him, giving his flanks a light squeeze with her thighs before looking up at him again. “You know? I could’ve sworn I noticed something that isn’t blue anymore.”

He quirked an eyebrow, hopefully masking how thrown off his was by that. “Really? You still want to jump right back into where we were yesterday?”

“I mean, we never did give it a try last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it kinda goes against mission professionalism.”

The witch cocked her head, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t all our missions lose some professionalism a hundred and seventeen signatures ago?”

Well, that was true.

Bucky tightened his hold on her waist, rolling them both over so that he was hovering over her, resting his weight on his hands on either side of her head. Perhaps it was trite and stupid, but truth be told, a part of him did want a little proof of life after the scare she gave him yesterday. Wanda seemed happy to oblige, letting him claim her mouth with his. She only broke the kiss briefly to pull the sheets that had tangled around them aside so that there was nothing between them (but still over them because the air around them was so relentlessly _cold_ ). The soldier dipped his head to steal another kiss, one that was bolder than the last. Maybe even bordering the edge of outright debauchery. His tongue found its way into her mouth. Her fingers swept behind his head, tangling in his hair. When she needed a breath, he pulled away to scatter hot, open-mouthed things down her throat and chest. Wanda whimpered as they became tender nips, arching into the warmth of his mouth.

This was where they had been before. Not just warm, but nice and hot in the comfort of bed. Time, and thoughts, and problems were far away, reducing the world to only the two of them. To kisses, and nuzzles, and worshipful bites of skin. To the feeling of trust, and respect, and love.

And just like before, they were rudely interrupted. Bucky positively growled at the sound of the radio crackling to life downstairs, and Steve’s fretful voice breaking through. “Bucky? Wanda? Come in.”

“No,” the soldier mumbled into Wanda’s chest, albeit with his voice too low to really be heard. Wanda half-laughed, half-shushed him. At her gentle pushes to his shoulder, he begrudgingly flopped back onto his side, a mass of bedsheets bunching against his other side as he did.

Over the sound of Bucky’s exasperated groans, Wanda rolled onto her stomach to call out to the radio below. “Yes?”

“Skies are finally clear,” Steve reported. “We’re about ready to take off. ETA is about forty-five minutes. You’re situation still secure?”

“It is,” Wanda replied, unconsciously tracing the seam of Bucky’s metal arm. A habit she had developed when they first started sharing a bed.

There was a commotion from the other end of the radio, paving the way for a new voice to take over. Bucky couldn’t help but release a long-suffering sigh as he recognized the deep, thunderous timbre of the man who first sent them on this wild goose chase. “Sorceress!” he called Wanda. “Sorceress, did you get it?”

Steve’s voice returned, faintly. “Buddy, there’s no need to yell. This is the mic. Just talk normally.”

Natasha. “That _is_ normal for him.”

“Sorceress!”

“Yes, Thor?” Wanda put in, her tone as patient as ever.

“Did you find it?” he demanded urgently. “The stone I spoke of?”

“Yes, Thor.”

“Are you sure it’s the same one that—”

“ _Yes,_ Thor.” Wisps of scarlet burst from Wanda’s fingertips, weaving between her fingers as she experimented with her control over them (her fingers must have still been a little numb). It was always pretty surreal to watch, but knowing Wanda, and how well she had learned to control the abnormal energy within her, Bucky was also fascinated to see her utilize it. Which she did here, extending the tendril that had formed between her fingers to reach the velvet pouch that he had left on the complete opposite end of the cabin. She drew the scarlet back toward herself, effortlessly summoning the pouch to her with it.

Bucky continued to watch the little witch as she took the stone from the bag they had found it in, when it was being stored amongst terrorist weapons to be some sort of alien battery. “Here,” she went on to others on the radio. “I’m looking at it right now. Perfectly safe.”

Indeed, she held up small stone to the light, where what little sunlight that could reach them illuminated it with an eerie, yellow glow. It was an ethereal thing, much like Wanda’s powers, but to Bucky, it wasn’t on the same, trustworthy plane. But Steve, Nat, and Wanda all seemed to trust Thor, and Thor seemed to really need it, so he kept his own thoughts about it quiet. “Yeah, ready for pick-up,” he added, hugging Wanda close with his metal arm. “One space rock of destiny, or whatever.”


End file.
